


Six Month Mark

by bluejorts



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Baby Cole, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Kidfic, M/M, New dads new dads, cole is alive, just know i was writing this w trans one of them in mind, one of them is trans, or both if thats what you fancy, this started dumb and then hank went all introspective on me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 19:58:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16687948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejorts/pseuds/bluejorts
Summary: "Cole, say fuck."Hank thinks he's a little old to have a new baby. But then, he's also a little old to be married to a man Connor's age, and that's treated him pretty damn well.





	Six Month Mark

**Author's Note:**

> hnnng i wrote this bc i went to stay w my friends who have six month old treasure of a boy and I've ruined him by deciding his first word will be fuck. 
> 
> this is also based on a twitter thread of mine that I'll link at the end! 
> 
> rated teen for the fuck word
> 
> (thank u itch and matt for letting me near ur kid, i love him and ur very good dads)

Cole. What do you know about Imperialism?”

“Ghhhhbh.”

“As much as I suspected, thank you.” Connor nods. Hank watches. His partner is standing in the middle of the living room, holding their six month old up to the light and squinting at him. He’s in his third sleep shirt of the night (Cole has learned, apparently, to stop giving any tells when he’s about to vomit) and his red boxers are ripped up one of the seams. His hair is curling every which way, falling in his face and sticking straight up into the air. But despite these things, the consideration in his squint makes him seem very serious. Almost put together.

“Cole. Say fuck.” Hank calls. He's leaning on the kitchen counter, both hands around his coffee mug, wishing he could take in the caffeine through his palms.

“Mnmmnnhnn.” 

“Cole.” He says again, patiently. “Say fuck.” 

“Gnnhhhffffd.” 

“Hank, he can't -”

“Cole, say  _ fuck _ .” 

Cole looks at him and grins a toothless grin. A string of drool runs from his chin to Connor's left hand. 

“Worth a try.” Hank shrugs. “D’you want a hot drink?”

Connor directs his squint at Hank. He really should be wearing his glasses, because if he gets a migraine and leaves Hank to look after both him  _ and _ Cole, Hank is going to keel over and die.

“Tea would be great, thank you

Hank fills the kettle, places it on the stove and - when he sees them on the side - grabs Connor's glasses and leaves the safety of the kitchen to place them on Connor's face. Connor has Cole against his chest now, rocking him softly and letting him chew his fingers as he stares up at the ceiling light

“Teething, are we?” Hank hums and kisses Cole on the forehead. The ecstatic coo he gets in response is worth the saliva covered hand that pats at his beard.

“I think so. I can't feel anything other than gums yet, but he's determined he's going to chew through the bone on this finger.”

“Want me to get a ring so you can have your hand back?”

“Oh, that would be nice. Thank you.” 

He pats Connor softly on the ass and drags his feet back into the kitchen. Teething rings are in a bag in the cupboard under the sink, and Hank's back isn't all too happy about that. He feels a twinge when he stands, and grimaces but says nothing. It would only start Connor fussing and worrying, and he doesn't need to be doing that over Hank right now. 

He throws a couple into the freezer (something Connor's mother insisted they try) and brings a third over to Connor. Connor thanks him, and switches it out for his finger, which is soaked with spit and makes the both of them grimace. 

“Give him here, you go wash that hand off.” Hank sighs. 

Connor hands Cole over with a grateful peck of Hank's cheek, and beelines for the sink. There's the start of a low drone, which is cut short as Connor pulls the kettle from the stove with still wet hands and opens the lid to let the steam escape without whistling. Put together, that's him. 

“Did you want another coffee?” He calls. 

“Nah, haven’t finished the first yet.” Hank returns. He looks down at Cole, who has hardly registered that he’s swapped parents, enamored as he is with the bright light above him. His blue eyes are wide, cheeks full and rosy as he chews on his own fist. Hank can still hardly believe that he’s  _ his _ . 

“Well do you want me to bring you it?”  

“Please.” 

He's busy wiggling his fingers over Cole, watching him grin and try to grab at them, when Connor comes over and deposits their mugs onto the coffee table and sits heavily onto the couch.

“What day is it?” He asks, digging amongst the cushions for the TV remote. 

“Tuesday.” Hank says. “I'm on at eight.” He turns to face Connor, who nods and smiles up at him. Since Cole, they've taken alternate days at work. Hank works at the fire station, currently only on desk work because getting called up in the ass hours of the morning is at the moment Cole's job and Cole's job alone. 

“Of course, I'll make breakfast.” 

“Connor.” Hank says, raising his brow and halting Connor, who had been about to get up of the seat he'd only just sat down in. “You sit there, it's okay.” 

Connor gives him a  _ look _ , one that says ‘I'm worried about you overworking yourself’, which makes Hank feel old. 

“You're gonna be working harder than me all day, baby. Paperwork and phones are nothing compared to this one.” He bounces Cole in his arms. “I'll make myself breakfast.” 

“At least let me get him out of your way while you do.” Connor frowns. Hank gives in, just because he's not sure how he'd manage juggling a baby and a carton of milk. He kisses Connor softly and heads back into the kitchen to make breakfast. 

Work that day passes quickly, and while getting panicked 911 calls is hardly the least stressful thing he could be doing Hank is so far desensitized to it at that point that his heart rate doesn't even spike when he picks up the phone. 

“Hank.” Jeff calls as he's picking up his coat to head home. “Your man is in reception,” Jeff smiles, “with your kid. How'd you get such a cute one, huh?”  

Hank shrugs, “That's all Connor.” He says. He really doesn't know. 

He heads down to the reception area of the station, where Connor is sat next to Cole's pram, fingers tapping away at his phone. Hank kisses him on the forehead by ways of greeting.

“Hey, love.” Connor grins. He catches Hank by the chin and pulls his face down to peck at his lips, because he's adorable and knows exactly how to make hank turn red in his place of work. “Good day?” 

Hank nods. “What about you, how come you're here?”

“Cole wouldn't stop crying. I brought him out on a walk as a last ditch effort to calm him down, and it worked.” Connor smiles, lopsided. “And it was the right time of day, so I thought I'd come see you.” 

Hank frowns doubtfully and brings up Google Maps on his phone. “You walked an hour and a half, babe.” 

Connor's smile strains a little at the edges. “I kept trying to turn around and he'd wake up and start crying again.”

“We'll pick up some teething gel on the way back, that's probably it.” Hank smooths his hand over Connor's hair sympathetically. 

They leave the building after Hank digs through the cloakroom for his jacket, Connor letting the pram bump a little down the steps outside, which seems to lull Cole further into sleep. He reaches for Hank's hand, and Hank lets him take it, Connor's just that much smaller, his slim, deft fingers entwined with Hank's and his thumb rubbing circles. 

They get  _ looks  _ of course, but Hank is numb to those now. It is odd to see a man like him with a man like Connor, he thinks. He's in his forties, wrinkles on his face pushed deeper with the stress of a new baby, while Connor next to him looks fresh out of college, exactly how he was when Hank first met him (with a Bachelors in Sociology that he's yet to find purpose for. It does feel odd, that Connor only celebrated his thirtieth earlier that year while Hank can barely remember his brief and mostly negative experience at university. He knows how he looks to other people, especially now, with an infant in front of them; it took a long time for him to stop internalizing the looks they got, to stop feeling guilty about being with him. 

It's why it took them so long to get together in the first place. Years, in fact. Years of Hank drinking and pretending it wasn't oh so easy to imagine them where they are now. Years until Connor pulled him into his apartment one day and told him why he thought it was stupid they ignore how they felt for the sake of the rest of the world (in the form of a PowerPoint, no less). Years of Hank giving into his spirals and getting stuck in his own thoughts and -

“Hank?”

“Mmh?” Hank makes a noise that does nothing to hide that he was distracted.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

Connor squeezes his hand for a moment. “Well that's untrue.” He looks sideways at Hank, with a soft - if mildly accusatory - smile. “I love you, okay?”

Hank squeezes back. “I love you too.”

He really does.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! im sorry if this was a little messy!! 
> 
> find me on twitter (nsfw) @robotwunk and on tumblr w the same name! 
> 
> the tweet thread that started this can b found here: https://twitter.com/robotwunk/status/1062395329616723968?s=19


End file.
